Absolutely An August

Well, friends, we have almost survived the most miserable month of the year!

And oh, it was absolutely an August. It was as much an August as I’ve ever known. And that is saying something, because we all know what happened in August 2020 (and if you don’t, well, it was a month of slipping in and out of benders before finally getting sober in October).

I’ve never been a fan of summer, not even when – in my previous life – it often meant beach trips that centered around hard seltzer and wasting away the afternoon at a new brewery or winery. At the time, that was incredibly enjoyable. In hindsight, of course I cringe just thinking about it. If anything, the heady buzz of the alcohol helped to distract me from the misery of the worst season. Now, I have had to find new ways to survive my personal hell – and it’s been incredibly difficult, borderline impossible.

Mentally, emotionally, and physically, this was one of the more challenging months I’ve had in quite some time. At the end of July, I had some sort of flu (not COVID, though I’m not certain I trust those at-home tests) which completely and totally threw everything off: my sleep, which was already terrible to begin with; my cycle; my mood; my work and productivity; my motivation; my mileage. Going into August, I was not in an ideal headspace (reference intro about this being the worst season) and I don’t think that helped, because I was not feeling mentally prepared for the month that lay ahead.

Given the nine different types of insomnia I have, as I like to quantify it, I was taking Ambien routinely. Well, as you can imagine, I became pretty dependent upon it to be able to fall asleep. This is of course mildly triggering and somewhat concerning, given that I am a recovering alcoholic and I know I need to be mindful of the distinct possibility and likelihood of getting hooked on any other substance, even if it is prescribed by my doctor. By the middle of the month, I was taking a night off here and there, trying to sleep without it or with a few dropperfuls of CBD, but the Ambien was not only ruling my nights, it was also making my depression far worse by this point.

Every day has felt the same. I have a similar feedback loop that plays in my head about how I am so stuck, so miserable, and not living up to my full potential. Add in the sheer misery of playing Russian Roulette with all of my “closest” biker enemies and having to plan my day (work and otherwise) around the noise pollution that is inescapable, and it has been an intolerable existence. Not to mention: I can’t tell you the last time I had a vacation. There hasn’t been much to look forward to and some days remind me so much of my previous life that it almost bends my brain. This is also the longest I’ve gone in my entire life without seeing my favorite person, my beloved Papa Z: nine whole months. That alone would have been difficult enough without all of the other harrowing factors. So, as I said, of course it was absolutely an August.

But there is a light at the end of the tunnel and its name is autumn.

I am well aware that my aforementioned problems will not magically disappear when the temperatures drop, the fall decorations are in place at the “Bachelorette Pad”, the pumpkins have been carefully selected for the front stoop, or when the leaves crunch crunch crunch underneath my ASICS, but having an end in sight and a respite on its way is comforting. Autumn means FINALLY seeing Papa Z or crushing his ribs when I hug-attack him; another fall marathon; celebrating my two-year soberversary; smelling the crisp air; dreaming of a cabin in Vermont; hopefully planning a special trip. I am so thankful that I do have a season I enjoy and that there are wonderful things ahead which I can anticipate.

So what did I learn from this miserable month?

I absolutely, 100% have to live someplace cooler and quieter. Immediately. I’m at the point where I’m chatting up random strangers in line at Starbucks in an effort to network and hopefully find a better paying job soon, so that I can afford to make my grand exodus AT LONG LAST out of this area. I get that climate change is affecting the whole world (meaning that the concept of a summer is somewhat unavoidable), but I cannot spend another sweat-soaked summer here blasting out my eardrums, with my shins tingling from anxiety, or I will absolutely end up in a psych ward or worse, without a shadow of a doubt.

August 2022 built more resiliency, more grace… and more cynicism. I have had to talk myself through COUNTLESS situations over the course of the past 30ish days – and today I was thinking, “This really is building so much character and resiliency.” As much as I hate it, it’s true. Secondly, I have had to show myself SO much grace: with regards to how “behind” I am on all of my side hustles, like getting my bakery website ready, and with having to scale back on mileage due to my depression and physical ailments, amongst other things. “At least your run streak is still intact!” is what I often remind myself on a rough day. And I congratulate myself for eating. It’s not always easy to do simple tasks when you’re past your anxiety threshold, you’re barely making ends meet, and you nearly died seven times on the W&OD Trail earlier that day. I applaud myself for the small wins – because as many of you know, the little things are the big things, especially when you are worn down, burned out, and in a state of mental weakness. Of course, I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention that I congratulate myself for staying sober and fighting any urges to drink. August was rife with triggers – but I am stronger than them now. And finally, I’m more cynical than ever – you knew that was coming! – but I do feel like things are looking up, not merely because cooler days are around the corner and I get to add all sorts of delightful pumpkin, cinnamon, and carrot cake treats to my bakery menu…

I have, have, HAVE to plan more trips. Even if they are on the shorter side and don’t involve the Caribbean (I’m almost sobbing thinking about how badly I want to go there…), I need a far more frequent change of scenery and change of pace. While I do thrive on routine, I also am going insane seeing the same things every single day; rotating between the same running routes; and not having time to unplug and get away from (Northern) Hell(ville) On Earth. So, prioritizing that, even if it’s simply more weekends at cabins, is something I need to focus on going forward.

I know when I flip over my cabin calendar in two days, life will not suddenly be perfect. But I am proud of myself for persevering through my least favorite month – and more importantly, for surviving my second summer without the crutch of alcohol. To anyone reading this who has also been going through a rough patch : I hope you are able to find your autumn, whether literal or figurative, and take comfort in knowing that things eventually do turn around.